Hannibal: Reprise
by Erik's Other Lover
Summary: Set a year after the movie "Hannibal", the good doctor contacts Clarice. Ex-Special Agent Starling is offered her position back at the FBI in order to help solve a new string of murders. Hannibal and Clarice's relationship will be tested as her sense for justice is strained. Rated M for language, suggestive/crude humor, future sexual situations, violence, and cannibalism.
1. Chapter 1

I decided to give a shot at writing a story about Hannibal Lecter, M.D. and Clarice Starling. I hated how the movie ended. Rated M for later chapters.

* * *

Chapter 1

_I came halfway around the world to watch you run, Clarice. Let me run, eh?_

"Hey, girl. Are you okay?" Ardelia plopped herself onto the couch next to Clarice.

"Yes, of course I am," Clarice replied without looking from her laptop.

"I know you better than that, you know." Ardelia yawned lazily. "Your dark circles are terrible. You don't eat. You don't go out. You've been here, like this every time I come home." She gestured to the mess of papers and folders lying in various places around the couch.

"Mhm." Clarice clicked furiously at her touch-pad.

"You shouldn't worry about him, Clarice. You said yourself that he wouldn't come after you." Ardelia paused waiting for her apartment-mate to acknowledge her. She picked up a folder and flipped through it. "This is exactly why the bureau let you go. You're obsessive." Ardelia reached forward and pushed the screen of the laptop down.

"What?" Clarice asked, annoyed.

"You gotta let this thing go—let _him_ go. It's been almost a year."

"I can't. I have to find him."

"You're letting him drive you crazy! He could be halfway around the world or dead for all we know!"

"He saved my life."

"He stripped you naked and drugged you! Oh, and dressed you in that slutty dress!"

"He did so to remove that bullet! You know that—he saved my life."

"He didn't have to remove your panties to perform surgery on your shoulder," Ardelia countered.

"He didn't remove my panties!"

"How would you know, Clarice? You were drugged the whole time. Don't be stupid."

"You'd think it weird, but he would do anything like that—he thinks it's rude behavior."

"Whatever, Clarice," Ardelia laughed. "He's made you crazy."

"Has Mr. Crawford said anything about Dr. Lecter?" Clarice inquired, ignoring her friend's previous comment. "Any news? Leads?"

"No. Trail's gone cold." Ardelia shook her head. She stood up. "I'm tired. Get some sleep, huh? For me?"

"Fine." Clarice closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table, amid the mess of papers.

"Try not to let him get in your head." Ardelia walked off to her bedroom.

"To late for that," Clarice said to herself. She looked at her laptop longingly. Sighing, she turned off the lamp, stretched out on the couch, and pulled a blanket up to her chest.

"Where are you, doctor?"

_Closer, please. Clos—er._

"I'm trying..." She closed her eyes as she savored the sound of his metallic voice in her head.

_Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me; stop. If you loved me, you'd stop?_

_Not in a thousand years._

_ Not in a thousand years... That's my girl._

* * *

Clarice awoke with a start. She glanced at the time on the wall clock.

_2:37pm. Guess Ardelia was right. I was tired._

She rose from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She sat on the counter while she waited for her coffee to brew, scanning today's paper for anything that might be related to the doctor—finding nothing significant, she poured a cup and walked to the front door to grab the mail.

This was her morning ritual: coffee, the newspaper, check mail in vain for a letter from Dr. Lecter, search over every case file and record she had for some detail that could lead to him. Perhaps there was one crucial detail she had over looked—something important—something insignificant.

Closing the front door with her hip, she thumbed through the envelops quickly.

_Junk-mail._ _Bills. More junk-mail. A letter with my name scrawled on it—_

"Doctor Lecter," she gasped. She rushed over to the couch, discarding the other mail and her coffee—quickly putting on rubber gloves in hopes she might preserve some evidence that might help her in her search of _him_. She held the envelope to her nose, inhaled deeply. There was no scent—no pleasant smell. She was immediately disappointed. She held the envelope away from her face, examining the way her first name was written so elegantly in the center of the envelope. She opened it slowly and carefully—not wanting to damage the contents within. Unfolding it with utmost care, it read:

_Dear Clarice, __I would first like to apologize for not contacting you much sooner. Please do not consider it rude of me. You know how I feel about rude people, don't you, Clarice? I've read in the papers that your F.B.I. career is very much over. How does that make you feel, Clarice? Do you feel as though you have failed yourself? How about Jackie-boy Crawford? No. It's much profounder than that, isn't it, Clarice? You feel as though you have failed your father—the good policeman. Memories, expectations... What is the worst part about this failure? How it will reflect on your daddy and mommy? Tell me, ex-special agent Starling, do you feel as though you have failed me? Is your lamb screaming now?_

"Fuck you." She wiped the tears from her eyes. She hated how he knew her—hated how right he was. He was always right—about everything.

_You haven't given up hope have you, Clarice? You've gone over countless reports and files, searching for something—anything—the smallest hint to my whereabouts. You think of me often, don't you—even what might have been. I'm flattered, Clarice. I really am, but it is better for both of us this way. You would turn me in even now, wouldn't you? Your will for justice is great—too great. If it were the other way around, I would let you run, Clarice. You believe that don't you? _

_Ta-ta,_

_-H_

_P.S. You haven't changed your number now have you? I certainly hope not. _

As if on cue, her cell phone rang. She fumbled for it quickly, still holding the letter in her hand.

"Hello?"

"Are you alright, Starling?"

"Mr. Crawford? Yes—I'm fine." She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, thankful that he couldn't see her—disappointed that it was not Lecter.

"Are you sure?" His voice with obvious with concern.

"Yes." The was a rather long pause.

"I called to check on you. I know it's been a long time, but Agent Mapp has been worried about you. I'm willing to push your papers back threw, if you think you are up to it."

"You'll give me my job back, Mr. Crawford? It's been almost a year. Why now?"

"We need your help—I need your help. Another case. We believe Lecter has returned to his old ways-"

"That can't be right." She interrupted.

"I'm afraid so, Starling. The crime scenes have Hannibal the Cannibal written all over them. Do you want back in?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. Crawford."

"Good. Come in tomorrow. Seven o'clock. Meet me in my office and we will start going over the case files."

"Thank you, Mr. Crawford."

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow, Starling." She clicked her phone shut. Now, unsure of what to think, she placed the letter and envelope from Lecter into a plastic bag. She couldn't see him risking his new found freedom, but then again he was a psychotic.

* * *

Before her alarm could sound, Clarice opened her eyes. This was the first time she had awoken in her bed in months. She quickly dressed and made her way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, girl," Ardelia greeted from the kitchen table. "I poured you coffee."

"Thanks." Clarice sat across from her friend.

"Glad to be going back?"

"Yeah, very," Clarice replied with a slight smile.

"I haven't seen a smile like that in a while! C'mon then." Ardelia stood and grabbed her keys. "Ride with me."

* * *

"Good morning, Starling," Crawford greeted as Clarice walked into his office. He admired her close fitting black suit. "Please, have a seat. I had to pull a few strings, but I think it was worth it."

"Thank you, Mr. Crawford," she replied, taking a seat across from his desk.

"As you know, we have some paperwork to go over."

"My reinstatement?"

"Exactly, Starling." He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a folder a placed it on his desk. "This form states that you are back on the force with full health benefits and such...sign here and here. There, too." He handed her a pen.

"Thanks." She signed her name quickly and handed his pen back. "Is that it?"

"Almost." He reached into his desk again. He handed her a XDM .45 and her badge. "Welcome back, Agent Starling." He smiled.

"What about Doctor Lecter?"

"Right, of course, Agent Starling." His smile faded. He reached into his desk once more and handed her a red folder. "All we have so far is in there."

"Is it all right if I go over this alone?" She ran her fingers over the spine of the folder.

"Yes, Starling, but I wanted to ask you a question." His face became very serious.

"Yes, sir?"

"There are many here who still think you aided in Lecter's escape."

"I understand that, sir."

"You haven't had any contact with Hannibal Lecter since you were...let go?"

"No, sir," she lied.

"I hope for your sake, Starling. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Please don't prove me wrong." He stood and crossed the room, opening his office door. "You may use my office to look over the file, Starling. Your office hasn't been cleaned out yet."

"Thank you, sir."

"Starling?"

"Sir?"

"It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, sir," she said with a smile. He closed the door behind him. She immediately opened the case file and delved into its contents.

The more she read, the more she was convinced that Doctor Lecter was not responsible. Crawford had sounded so sure that Hannibal the Cannibal, as he said, was written all over it. The crime scene photos were wrong. The mutilation was wrong. There was no motive she could see other than pure cannibalism. She was sure Hannibal wouldn't strike out at random just to consume human flesh. There were five known bodies—two women and three men. She knew that Lecter had never harmed let alone killed a woman before. That was a obvious red flag.

All five victims were disemboweled, found hanging just like Inspecter Renaldo Pazzi. She reread everything—confused as to why Crawford had believed it was Hannibal who was responsible for these crimes.

Three hours later, there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Starling," Crawford greeted as he entered. "What do you think?"

"Doctor Lecter is not responsible."

"You are sure?" He took his seat opposite of her.

"Yes, sir. He doesn't kill women."

"Did you see the photos of the bite-marks on the bodies? Their were chunks missing. He's the only criminal that is out there to our knowledge that indulges in human flesh."

"It's got to be a copycat."

"If you are sure, I will believe you." Crawford leaned forward onto his desk. "You are the Lecter expert after all."

"May I take this file home?"

"Of course. I hope this means you will take this case."

"Yes, sir." She stood up to leave. She tucked the file under her arm and turned to the door.

"Agent Starling?"

"Mr. Crawford?"

"If you need anything at all, and I mean anything, please give me a call."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Crawford."

"One more thing."

"Hm?"

"Call me Jack, Clarice." He smiled.

"All right, Mr. Craw—Jack." She felt uncomfortable.

* * *

A week had passed since Clarice Starling had rejoined the F.B.I. and took on her new case. Many of the other agents had avoided her. Some looked on her with disgust. She spent most of her time at home, reading over the case file and researching it online. She always made sure she never went anywhere without her cellular phone.

Now, she sat in bed—reading an article about her murderer—her new case. Her phone rang. She answered it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Clarice." Her breath caught in her chest.

"Doctor Lecter," she greeted.

"How's my girl?" His voice was low.

"I'm fine."

"I trust you received my letter."

"Yes." She felt heat flood to her cheeks. She immediately felt anger toward him. _What is the worst part about this failure? How it will reflect on your daddy and mommy? Tell me, ex-special agent Starling, do you feel as though you have failed me? Is your lamb screaming now? _"I want to ask you something."

"Quid pro quo, Clarice."

"Very well, doctor. Do you know anything about the man who currently is copycatting you?"

"I wouldn't call it copycatting, Clarice," he replied flatly. "From what I have deducted from the papers, this person kills sloppily and at random. Inspector Pazzi was the only person I've ever disposed of in that manner of hanging."

"I know that, but do you know anything?"

"No more than you, Clarice. I haven't cared to follow crime lately. You are far more interesting."

"Thank you. It's your turn, doctor."

"Tell me, Clarice, why did you go back to the FBI, hm?" His voice was metallic. "Do you believe that this is a chance at redemption? That you might redeem yourself for the sake of saving your father? Is that it, Clarice? Is that why you agreed?"

"No."

"Then why? They will never further you beyond your rank that you are now. There are too many doubts—your career; too sullied. They believe you assisted me in escape. Did ol' Jackie-boy offer you something you couldn't refuse? You know he still desires you sexually—"

"Stop that, doctor. Or I'll—I'll..."

"Or what, Clarice?" His voice was threatening. "You cannot deny the truth."

"I'll hang up."

"We both know you won't. I suppose this could be a far more pleasant of conversations. Too much time has passed. Won't you agree?" His voice softened.

"Yes... Why wait so long to contact me?"

"I could ask you the same."

"The FBI had been following me for months...I didn't want to lead them to you, doctor."

"Were you worried about me, Clarice? I'm flattered."

There was a long pause as Clarice fought back her emotions. _If it were the other way around, I would let you run, Clarice. You believe that don't you? _

"Clarice?""

…

"Clarice?" His voice never wavered.

"Yes. I'm—I'm here." Her voice sounded weak to her own ears. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Nothing makes us more vulnerable than loneliness." He paused. "Are you lonely, Clarice?"

"Doctor..."

There was another pause.

"Clarice, would you like it if we met?"

"Yes," she answered quickly.

"If we were to meet face to face, would you deny me my freedom, Special Agent Starling? Tell me, Clarice, would you turn me in to redeem yourself? Your sense of justice precedes you."

As a FBI agent, Clarice knew it was her duty to turn him in. It was right. It was justice. She thought of her last attempt to turn him in. As he kissed her, she in turn handcuffed him to her. _Where is the key?_

"Clarice?"

"I'm sorry, doctor. I think it's best that I hang up."

"Why, Clarice? I thought we were having a nice little chat."

Another long pause.

"Doctor, can I ask you one more question?"

"Yes, Clarice."

"Is your...your hand—is it..."

"Go on, Clarice," he urged.

"What became of your hand, doctor?"

"Why do you ask, Clarice? Do you feel guilt, perhaps? It would have been much less painful if you had simply given me the key, but you couldn't do that could you? You had to capture me, as was your duty correct? You thought I would hurt you—never, Clarice. I thought you might recognize that—"

"Bye, doctor."

"Clar—"

She clicked her phone shut and buried her face into her pillow—overcome with emotions. Her phone rang again, but she refused to answer it. It stopped after ring number eight. Then started to ring once more. She answered it.

"Clarice?"

She didn't respond—just held the phone to her ear.

"I understand you are angry with me. Justified as your anger is, do not underestimate what I say. I wouldn't lie to you, Clarice, not in a thousand years."

_Some would say we're in love._

"This is wrong."

"Why is this wrong, Clarice? Who deems it so? Is it because of your agent status? Your morals, Clarice? Your protestant god? Stop me when I am right."

"Doctor, please, I don't want to do this right now. I'm tired."

"Yes, I know, Clarice. Do as I say now, hm?"

"Fine."

"Turn off your bedside light. I want you to lay back down, Clarice. Rest your pretty little head." She did as he instructed. "Now pull your coverings up to your chest. Better?"

"I suppose."

"Do you wish for me to hang up now, Clarice?"

"No," she said quietly. A yawn escaped her lips. "Stay with me until I fall asleep."

"Very well, Clarice." He tone was soft, almost tender. "I will do as you ask. I cannot deny you."

"Thank you, doctor," she said sleepily, pressing one side of her face into her pillow. She held the phone, lazily to her left ear.

"You're welcome, Clarice," he purred.

"Mhhmm." she replied, closing her eyes.

Within several moments, Doctor Lecter heard her rhythmic breathing. Obvious to him, she was asleep. He savored the sounds of her inhaling and expelling breathes. He imagined her chest rising and falling with each passing one. He allowed himself to listen for several minutes.

"Goodnight, Clarice," he whispered softly. "Goodnight."

* * *

I enjoyed writing it. Please tell me if you enjoyed reading it-especially if I wrote the good doctor's part well enough. Reviews are wonderful.

-E.O.L.


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go with chapter two. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2

_That's my girl._

Clarice awoke, so sharp. She glanced at her alarm clock.

_8:07AM. I'm late! Why didn't Ardelia wake me?_

"Shit, shit, shit!" Clarice quickly dressed in khaki pants and a green blouse, pulled her hair into a pony tail, and rushed out the door with the red folder tucked under her arm. She pulled her '89 mustang out of the driveway and speed down the road. Her cell phone rang.

"Agent Starling," she answered, swerving to avoid a cat that decided to cross the road precisely at the same moment she turned the corner. "Shit!"

"Starling? It's Jack."

"Jack who?"

"Crawford."

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Crawford."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm running a little late this morning." She sped through a red light.

"I stuck my neck out for your, Clarice. Please, don't make me regret it."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll be there in fifteen."

"There's been another murder, Starling. Make it ten."

* * *

"Starling. There you are," Jack greeted as he met Clarice just before his office door. "Follow me."

"Yes, sir."

"We're going to visit the crime scene." He placed his hand on her back as he led her down the hall and out to the parking lot. "We'll take my car."

Clarice slide into the passenger seat of Jack's car, clutching the red folder to her chest.

"It was another female," Jack said as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Found hanging just like the others...disemboweled—bite marks."

"Doctor Lecter isn't responsible."

"For some reason I can't help but thinking it is him," he admitted as he turned a corner sharply.

"You want it to be him," she replied, staring out the window.

"What makes you so sure it isn't him, Starling? Can you confirm an alibi for him?"

"Mr. Crawford!" Her face turned red as she glared at him. "How can you think—"

"I'm just kidding, Starling. Take it easy."

"Yes, sir..."

* * *

The rest of the car ride lasted in silence. The car rolled to a stop in front of an apartment complex in the downtown area. Cop cars were parked out front. Yellow crime scene tape lined the street. Clarice exited the vehicle and followed Crawford.

"Third floor apartment B, Starling," he said gesturing to the brick structure. "I'll be up in a minute. Gotta talk to the state boys."

"Yes, sir." She made her way up the stairs to apartment 3B. "Excuse me, FBI," she said, holding her badge up as she pushed through the crowd. Cops and detectives lined the stairwells. She made no effort to look at them.

"My god," she gasped as she pushed the apartment door open. Hanging just inside the doorway was a young woman, matted hair clung to her face—her abdomen sliced open wide. The contents of her lay on the floor in a grotesque pile. Starling covered her nose with her sleeve as soon as the stench met her nose.

"Cut her down, Starling," Crawford ordered as he walked through the door. He covered his nose as well. "Photos were already taken. It's fine."

"Sir." Clarice handed him the red file and reached into her pocket, removing her pocket knife.

"Here, put these on." He handed her a pair of rubber gloves.

Donning the gloves, she approached the hung girl, careful not to step on her discarded organs. Clarice cringed at the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor.

"This one's different, Starling."

"Sir?"

"Look under her skirt," he instructed.

"Sir, I don't—shit! He burned off her—there's bit marks."

"It seems he is evolving, Starling. We have to catch him and soon."

"I know, sir. Were they able to find any DNA from the perp? Any evidence of sexual assault?" she asked as she removed her rubber gloves and discarded them.

"Won't know till the reports come back. I'll get them to you first thing."

A long silence passed between them as Clarice examined the rest of the apartment. Crawford followed her about as she did so.

"What do you think?"

"I think whoever did this is extremely disturbed, psychotic perhaps, sir—must have gotten the idea of disembowelment and hanging from Dr. Lecter. This perp is different though."

"How so, Starling?"

"The mutilation goes beyond humiliation. I just don't understand why he—whoever did this burned off her genitalia...that's new."

"Maybe he had mommy issues."

"No...I don't think so. This is the first body he has done this to. We need to find a link between his victims. Maybe the first five were practice all for her."

"Yes, well, I'll leave you to your work, Starling. Meet me at the car when you're ready to go."

* * *

Later that evening...

"Hey, Clarice!" Ardelia greeted as she hurried about the living room, struggling to put on her heels.

"Where are you going?" Clarice kicked off her shoes as she closed the front door.

"Got a date with that new guy down in autopsy." Ardelia replied as she smoothed her purple dress. "Too much?"

"Nah, have fun." Clarice gave an approving nod.

"See ya!" Ardelia hurried out the door.

Clarice sighed as she headed to her room. She took a much needed shower, changed into a long t-shirt, and settled on her bed. Just as she reached for the remote for her t.v., her cell phone rang.

"Agent Starling."

"Hello, Clarice."

"Doctor Lecter." she gasped.

"Disappointed are you, Clarice?"

"No, doctor. I didn't think you would call again so soon," she replied. She waited for him to speak. When, he did not, she continued. "There was another victim today."

"Goody."

"This is serious. Are you positive that you don't know anything? Anything at all that could help catch this creep? Mr. Crawford insists that you are responsible."

"Jackie-boy wants me to be responsible. You already knew that though, Clarice. You know I would not do such things, having ultimately recovered my freedom. Jackie feels the necessity to redeem himself just as much as you do—if not more, for letting me get away twice. He feels responsible in that aspect—that he should prove himself— he feels responsible for _your_ failure. He doesn't trust you—hating me for it—jealous that I could light a flame in you that he failed to even spark, but you do not care about that, do you Clarice?" He paused. She said nothing, sharing in the moment of silence that passed between them.

"Are you quite fatigued, Clarice?"

"No, doctor. I'm fine."

"Would you still like to meet face to face, Clarice?"

"Yes." She felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought. Excitement coursed throughout her body.

"Would you still deny me my freedom, Clarice? Being an agent once again, I can understand it is your duty by law—"

"Shut up!" The harshness in her own voice startled her.

Silence.

"Doctor?"

No answer.

"Doctor Lecter?" She was sure she had hurt him.

Nothing.

"Doctor Lecter?" She immediately felt alone, wanting him to speak—to acknowledged her now in her moment of loneliness.

"I thought, Clarice—I thought when it was all over, that we might go our separate ways." His voice was low and thick. "That it would be healthier—finer—easier that way. That I might be capable to bury this—all of this. Then, I thought of the first meeting we had...in the dungeon; me in my glass cage and you, sitting their with your expensive bag and cheap shoes. Fresh from the academy with your seriousness and drive to discover the truth—to solve the big one—to catch our little Billy—Buffalo Bill..."

"Doctor Lecter." Her saying his name encouraged him to continue.

"It just comes back in flashes, you know. Part of me knew, the second I saw you, Clarice, that this would happen. It's not your fault—you did not know it then. To be honest, I was sure I would grow bored. I was incorrect. I tried to suppress it. It was the feeling that came along after. The most puzzling part is, I could not fathom that I could feel that way—the wanting—the longing—the utter despair." He paused. "I don't know if it is wise to continue, Clarice."

"Please, doctor," she implored him.

"I knew your world moved too fast and burned too bright for me to keep up. I thought about the devil inside of me, pulling me to you. I thought it was safer to watch you run. You felt it too, did you not, Clarice?"

"Yes, doctor."

There was another long pause.

"Go to the aerodrome tomorrow morning, Clarice."

"But doctor—"

"Bye-bye, Clarice."

Click.

* * *

Morning had not come soon enough. Agent Clarice Starling was up and dressed well before the sun began to rise over the horizon.

_Part of me knew, the second I saw you, Clarice, that this would happen._

"What would happen, doctor," she wondered aloud. "Why would you say those things to me? To lure me in?" _If that is his intention, it is working._ She shook her head to clear away the thoughts.

_The most puzzling part is, I could not fathom that I could feel that way—the wanting—the longing—the utter despair._

She knew he was trying to express how he felt about her.

_I don't know if it is wise to continue, Clarice._

Then he had become so unsure of himself—like he wanted to take the words he had just uttered back.

She picked up her phone and dialed Jack's number. He picked up on the sixth ring.

"Crawford." His voice was heavy with sleepiness.

"Hey, sir."

"Starling? It's early. What's going on?" His voice was alarmed. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, sir. I'm feeling a bit under the weather this morning," she lied.

"Well, come in later if you feel up to it," he replied.

"Will do, sir. Thanks."

Click.

* * *

Starling arrived at the airport at exactly 6:03AM. It was approximately 9:05AM when her cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Why, hello, Clarice."

"What took you so long?" she asked, forcing herself to sit upright.

"I am quite glad you left you hair down, Clarice. I prefer it that way."

"Where are you, doctor?" She stood from the bench on which she sat. Her eyes searched for him amongst the crowd.

"Come now, Clarice. I thought we could have a bit of fun."

"This isn't what I'd call fun, doctor."

"What would you call it, Clarice? Tell me, hm? A game of cat and mouse, perhaps?"

"I thought we were meeting face to face," she retorted, pushing through the crowd desperate to locate him. "Or have you forgot?"

"All in good time, Clarice."

"What are you up to?"

"Curious are you, Clarice? It is deep in your nature, is it not?"

"Doctor, please, enough with this small talk." She continued searching the sea of travelers for him—not knowing what he was wearing; searching out his face or his posture. "Where are you?"

"You know, it is fascinating, Clarice, the way your eyes are so lively—stubborn and resolute when you are in pursuit."

"You're watching me aren't you?"

"I trust you have not alerted the authorities, Clarice."

"I don't need them to take you in," she countered.

"Confident are you, Clarice?" His voice was amused. "That's my girl."

"C'mon, doctor," she pleaded. "Why did you ask me to meet you here?"

"Look in your purse, Clarice."

"I don't understand, doctor..." She did as he instructed. Her hands found a white envelope within her handbag. She opened it quickly and found a single plane ticket.

"What is this, doctor?" she asked incredulously.

"First class, Clarice. Our flight is departing soon. Ta-Ta." He hung up before she could say another word.

Frustrated, Clarice studied the ticket briefly. _Gate E8_. She practically ran to the departure gate. Most of the passengers had already boarded.

"Ticket, ma'am?" The attendant smiled.

"Yeah." Clarice handed over her ticket.

"Seat C2, ma'am. Have a great flight."

"Yeah, thanks." Clarice took the ticket stub and hurried onto the plane. She found her seat easily, thankful, yet disappointed at the empty seats on either side of hers. She stretched out, unaccustomed to all of the excess space that first class held.

"Good morning, this is your pilot Andrew Smith. It's a lovely sixty-five degrees. The skies are clear..."

Clarice flipped over the ticket stub—examining it as the pilot's voice crackled over the speakers. _Barcelona. I'm going to Barcelona. Fucking Spain? Shit, shit, shit!_

"...off we go."

The plane took off smoothly. Clarice glared out the window. _What the fuck are you getting yourself into, Starling? What is Mr. Crawford—Jack gonna think? Shit! _

_ Oh, hey, Mr. Crawford, I can't come to work today. Yeah, I'm not really sick—I'm on a plane with Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter, headed to Barcelona, Spain. Sorry for bailing on the case, since you stuck you neck out for me—fuck! So fucked!_

Clarice moved to the empty window seat and watched as all of civilization disappeared from view.

"Excuse me, miss," an attractive young flight attendant greeted.

"Yes?"

"The gentleman from seat E2 bought you this drink," he said, handing her a glass of wine from his tray. He turned to go.

"Hey," Clarice called to the flight attendant.

"Ma'am?"

"Could you deliver a note to him, please?" _What am I doing? Shit, Starling. _

"Of course." The attendant smiled as Clarice quickly scratched a message down on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, miss." The attendant bowed his head before continuing down the aisle.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir."

"Yes?" Doctor Lecter looked up from his newspaper to the flight attendant.

"The young lady, you bought the drink for, wanted me to hand you this."

"Thank you." The doctor unfolded the note. It read:

_Thanks for the wine, doctor. If you're interested, I have two empty seats next to me._

_ -Clarice_

"Starling, you never cease to surprise me," he mused. He stood and slowly made his way to row C.

"Doctor," Clarice greeted quietly. She watched him as he stood unnaturally still in the aisle. The shadow of his hat lessened the intensity of his maroon eyes. His black suit was elegant.

"Is this seat taken?" She shook her head. He smirked—so slight, and seated himself right next to her, crossing his legs. "To think I had planned to sit alone for the entirety of the flight. This will be far more pleasant arrangement. Don't you agree, Clarice?"

* * *

I would appreciate it greatly if you would leave a review and let me know what you think. I would especially like to know if I am doing justice with Hannibal's character.

Ta-Ta,

E.O.L.


	3. Chapter 3

My apologizes that this chapter is not quite as lengthy as the previous ones.

* * *

Chapter 3

This was it—after a year, she was finally with _him_, and she was at a loss for words or actions. The closeness of him was almost too overwhelming. Clarice looked away—back out the window, staring at the white of clouds that engulfed the plane.

"It's quite intriguing isn't it, Clarice? The way this metal contraption is able to glide effortlessly through the sky—flying higher than the birds. Let us hope it does not tumble toward the ground like a deep-roller pigeon."

"That's not funny." She turned to him then.

"To be funny was not my intention." She watched his eyes close. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. "Are you nervous, Clarice?"

_Lie to me and I'll know._

"Should I be?" She, too, inhaled deeply. His cologne was subtle.

"I wouldn't think so," he replied casually. "I won't _bite_, Clarice."

"Is that suppose to comfort me, doctor?"

"I was simply reassuring you. Please don't take offense." He removed his black hat, and placed it upon his lap. His maroon eyes twinkled.

"Mhm." She took a drink of her wine, hoping it would calm her nerves.

"I thought you would be more for conversation."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she replied. She took another drink.

"I'm not disappointed, Clarice. I am quite the opposite," He placed his hand onto the armrest between them.

"Your hand, doctor," she all but gasped.

"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes, Clarice. You see, I had my uncertainties, but surgical technology is rather progressive these days. You'd be astonished that I've recovered full movement. There is only a touch of numbness." He held up his hand, allowing the cuff of his suit jacket to fall back so she could see the white scar that wrapped around his entire wrist.

Doctor Lecter saw the guilt rise in her eyes. "See, Clarice, my hand is all right." He made a fist and rotated his wrist, flexing his fingers—proving his mobility.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It needn't your concern, Clarice," he murmured. "I'm quite all right." It was all boldness as he reached forward and wiped her single tear away with his thumb. He savored the feel of her soft skin.

"I'm sorry, doctor," she sighed as she leaned into his touch. "I should have gave you the key."

"What's done is done now, Clarice." He pulled back from her and sat up straight with his arms crossed, staring forward. His features took on indifference.

A long silent moment passed between them. Clarice studied Doctor Lecter as his maroon eyes looked straight ahead, unblinking. His mouth, a taught line. His dark hair slicked back perfectly just as it was the first time she met him in the dungeon—his glass cage. She marveled at the way in which he—Doctor 'Hannibal the Cannibal' Lecter sat, sipping wine all too casually as though he was just another typical airline passenger on a typical Thursday flight. He occasionally swirled his wine in its glass.

"It's rude to stare, Clarice." He didn't look at her.

"I'm not trying to be rude," she assured him. He didn't speak. "Why Barcelona?"

"Why not, Clarice?"

"Doctor, if you're not going to be straight with me, I'll be forced to alert the plane's marshal of your presence," she threatened as she discarded her empty wine glass.

"Go on then." He looked at her, cocking his head slightly to the side. "Do it then, Clarice." He smiled.

The stillness of his face, and the way his voice remained so uncompassionate—frightened her. No, not frightened. She knew that was his intent, to intimidate—to challenge her.

"Once this plane lands, I'll take you in myself."

"I don't think so, Clarice."

"I promise you, doctor, you'll be back in that glass cell before you can—" The plane abruptly shook violently. "What the hell was that?"

"Language please, Clarice. Offensive words aren't becoming from you," he said cooly. "To answer your question; turbulence."

As if on cue the pilot's voice came over the plane's speakers. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is your pilot Andrew Smith speaking. We've come into some bad weather. Nothing to worry about. The storm should clear up soon. Turbulence is expected. Try to sit back and relax. We will be landing in England for a transfer in six hours."

"England..." Clarice sighed and sunk down into her chair and stared out the window at the dark storm clouds. She was tired.

"Are you fatigued, Clarice?"

"Yes."

"Sleep then. We will have plenty of time to catch up later." His voice was low and calm.

"I'm not taking my eyes off you for one second." She yawned. "Not one."

"Certainly, I will not attempt anything reckless whilst we are mid flight, Clarice. I have grown a liking to my freedom and I would prefer to keep it." He leaned his head back lazily.

"Give me your word, doctor."

"Of course, Clarice. You have my word. "

* * *

Clarice awoke with a start. She bolted upright in her seat. The plane jarred about. It was landing. "Doctor..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she was indeed seated alone. "Shit." Craning her neck, she searched for him without luck.

_Where are you, Doctor Lecter?_

After the plan had landed, Clarice had grabbed her purse quickly and exited the plane. She stepped into the International London Heathrow Airport. Furious, she searched the crowd for him. She reached into her purse for her ticket stub. Her transfer flight wasn't leaving for another forty-six minutes. She was starving.

As she made her way to a sandwich kiosk, her phone began to make missed call and voice-mail notification sounds. She flipped it open as she paid the sandwich vendor. She had eight missed calls and six voice-mails.

_Crawford, Crawford, Ardelia, Crawford, Crawford, Ardelia, Crawford, and Crawford again. Shit!_

She dialed her voice-mail number as she consumed her sandwich.

_"Starling, it's Jack. Just calling to check on you. Feel better..." _

_ "Hey, girl! Learn to answer your phone. Where are you? Crawford said you called in sick. Call me."_

_ "It's Jack again. Found something you might want to see. Give me a call."_

_ "Starling, where are you? Agent Mapp called me. Please, call me when you get this."_

_ "Girl, you really gotta call Crawford. He going nuts."_

_ "It's Jack again. We've found something. It's very important that you call me. Please, Clarice."_

The last message sounded desperate. She quickly dialed Mr. Crawford's number.

"Hello?" His voice was heavy with sleep.

"Mr. Crawford, it's Agent Starling."

"Clarice? Fuck. What took you so long to return my calls?" He was pissed.

"I'm sorry, sir but my phone died."

"Whatever. Where are you now?"

_Shit! Come on, Starling. Say something convincing._

"I'm at my Aunt Nancy's...in New York. She's sick," she lied.

"I really need to be kept in the loop, Starling." He yawned. "You can't be disappearing like this. Don't forget I put my neck-"

"Yes, sir. I know, but Aunt Nancy needs her tea. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Starling-"

_Click._

* * *

_ Where, oh where has my little lamb gone? Where, oh where can she be?_

Doctor Lecter hummed to himself as he smoothed his suit. He stared at his reflection for a brief moment. The lengthy light brown wig looked almost silly beneath his fedora. The blue contacts hid his intense stare. He smiled.

* * *

"Taxi!" Clarice waived her hand at a passing cab only to be ignored once more. "Shit!"She tapped her foot impatiently. She already hated Spain. She looked around at the tan skinned people that bustled around her. It was colorful. Beautiful almost.

_Where are you doctor?_

"Taxi!" She tried once more. A blue cab pulled over. "Finally!" She quickly scrambled in, clutching her purse to her chest.

"Hola, señorita. ¿Dónde quiere ir?" The driver asked casually. His accent was thick.

"Uh..." Clarice racked her brain for any bit of Spanish she could muster. "¿Habla Inglés?"

"You are americano, sí?" The taxi driver laughed. "Where you want to go, señorita?"

"A hotel, sir."

"Muy bueno."

* * *

Clarice immediately regretted not bringing any luggage with her. She tossed her purse onto the desk in the cheap hotel room and flopped onto the single-sized bed, utterly exhausted and frustrated. She was in a country she did not know—a culture she was unfamiliar with—and with a language she did not understand well—pursuing Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter, once again. She lied to Crawford—

Her phone rang. She quickly snapped it open.

"Starling."

"What do you think of Spain, Clarice?"

"Where are you, Doctor?"

"Tell me, Clarice, do you know what's it is like to be in the dark?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Are you sure? Are you so sure, Clarice?"

"I'm..." She paused. "Yes, I'm quite sure, Doctor Lecter, sir."

"You needn't call me sir, Clarice. I thought us past such formalities. We are equals you and I."

"All right, Doctor."

"That's better." He paused. "You hesitated. Why did you hesitate when you answered me, Clarice?"

"I don't think it's necessary that you call me Clarice." she retorted.

"Why? It's your name. Is it not?" He paused waiting for reply. When he did not receive one he continued. "Tell me why you hesitated."

"Because your dark is different from my dark." she replied.

"True, but you still know the dark. I believe you know what is like to be in the dark. Would you like me to tell you? It's when you're alone. When your mind is your only companion—your thoughts are left to wander. They begin to race—to fester. They create cracks and crevices and seek to torment and trouble. The dark devours your conscious mind. Now, Clarice, have you ever been alone?"

"Yes, I am alone."

"Why are you alone, Clarice?"

"Because I choose to be. I can take care of myself."

"Incorrect. You cannot take care of yourself, Clarice. You rely on others to support you. Isn't that why you cling to me even now?"

"I don't understand why we are talking about this right now. Everyone is alone, Doctor."

"Everyone is indeed alone. That is why we have others. They become our support. It's just like how you are here with me, Clarice. We are more similar than you think."

"I don't know..."

"Of course you know, Clarice. It's a pity you still fight it."

Another long silent moment passed.

"Doctor Lecter." She clutched the phone tightly as she sat up. "Where are you?"

"All in due time. I promise," he purred.

"Doctor..."

"Are you hungry, Clarice? Myself, I'm quite famished. I'm thinking dinner...Authentic Spanish cuisine. Is that to your liking, Clarice?"

"Where are you?" she asked again.

There was a long pause.

"Doctor?"

No answer.

"Doctor Lecter?"

…

"Fine. I am hungry. Would you _please_ have me for dinner?"

"I never thought you would ask, Clarice." His tone was amused.

"That's not what I meant."

"Of course it's not. Come now. We'll be leaving soon."

"What—" She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Hold on, Doctor. There's someone at my..." She rose from the bed and opened it slowly and was met with a strange looking Doctor Lecter dressed in a silver suit and hat with large sunglasses. "...door." She stifled a laugh with her hand.

"Hello, Clarice." He closed his cell phone and stood casually in the door way.

"How long have you been there?" she asked in disbelief.

"All of three minutes and twenty-seven seconds."

"What are you wearing?" She eyed his wig.

"I thought you of all people, Clarice, would recognize a disguise when presented with such."

"I want this to be perfectly clear, Doctor."

"And what is that, Clarice?"

"That if you step out of line once, I will turn you over to the FBI."

"I wouldn't hope for anything less," he replied with a smirk. "Come now, Clarice. Dinner is waiting."

* * *

Reviews are greatly appreciated. Ta-Ta.


	4. Chapter 4

I am deeply sorry for taking this long to update.

* * *

Chapter 4

"What would you have, mi señor?" The waiter asked smoothly. His accent was thick, his hair as dark as his skin. Hannibal looked up from the menu to catch Clarice's confused eyes as she studied hers.

"Would you like me to order for you, Clarice?"

"Please."

Clarice took time to observe the elegant restaurant in which they sat as Doctor Lecter placed both of their orders. The room was bright and filled with colorful paintings depicting the Spanish way of life—from matadors to couples drifting down the river in a gondola.

"Clarice."

"Hm?" She looked back at the doctor. His hands were laced together and placed casually on the table. She hated how his hat and large sunglasses hid his expression. And the wig—that was the most ridiculous part.

"Does Jackie-boy suspect?" His tone was quite serious.

"No," she replied. She took a sip of water. "He thinks I'm in New York with my sick Aunt Nancy."

"Good." He too took a sip of water. "Could you not have came up with a more credible lie, Clarice? I had hoped you would have covered your bases better."

"Yes, well..." She let her words trail off as the doctor studied her for a long moment. "Won't you take those off?" she asked gesturing to his sun glasses.

"No."

"Why?"

He said nothing. He swirled his water is his glass.

"I would like to know your intentions, Clarice. What do you hope to accomplish—by following me, hm? You are here to uncover some great truth. Redemption? No. Perhaps, you hope to find your path to self discovery..."

"I don't think that's why I'm here," she replied as she met his gaze.

"Why are you here, Clarice?"

"I'm here—I'm here to..." She stared at him. He could almost feel her groping.

"That's right. You are here to be taken care of. Let me take care of you, Clarice. You know what it's like to be in the dark. You've stared into it's hostile eyes. You've heard it's violative words. You know it well—as do I." He paused. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Clarice?"

"I think so," she responded.

"Those tears are in your eyes because you know."

"I know." She dabbed at her eyes, brushing the tears away with her napkin.

"Tell me about the dark, Clarice."

"In here? Right now?"

"Right now."

"Doctor..." She sighed heavily.

"Tell me, Clarice," he urged her.

"It's cold. It's lonely. It eats away at you." She looked away from him.

"Tell me about the lambs, Clarice."

"We've been over this, Doctor Lecter, sir."

"Again with the _sir_, Clarice? Please, we are friends, are we not? We understand one another. We are on the same plain—you and I." She nodded. "Tell me about the lambs."

"No."

"No?"

"Not here." She shook her head. "Not with all these people."

"Why not, Clarice? Are you embarrassed? I can assure you that English is not their first language."

"Can we talk about this later?" She stared at him with pleading eyes. "Please?"

"Ah, here comes our food." The doctor thanked the waiter as he placed two platters in front of them. "The lambs can wait, I suppose. This looks absolutely delightful."

"It does," Clarice said in false agreement as she pushed her food around on her plate. Her stomach was suddenly sick. She thought of the lambs—of her lamb—the screaming—the terrible screaming.

"Did I upset you, Clarice?" Doctor Lecter watched her intently as he cut his food.

She glared at him, furious that she couldn't see his expression.

"Would it comfort you if I were to apologize, Clarice? I was merely helping you understand—"

"You should have thought of that before! You prying son of a bitch," she yelled at him.

The restaurant became instantly quiet at her outburst. The band's music ceased. She could feel everyone's eyes on her. She did not care. She was hurt. She was angry.

"You said you wanted to comfort me, but all you do is pry and pry! I don't want to talk about my lambs—least of all to you!"

"Clarice, I meant—"

"I don't need you to help me understand anything. Fuck this dinner. Fuck this country." Clarice stood and grabbed her purse. "And fuck you, doctor." She stormed off.

"Clarice!" Doctor Lecter discarded his napkin from his lap and stood. He followed her quickly through the crowded restaurant and out onto the busy street square. He all but tripped as another tourist bumped into him. His sun glasses fell from his face. He didn't pick them up."Clarice, wait!" He quickly pushed through the crowd, readjusting his hat.

Clarice continued to ignore him as she stalked forward.

"Clarice!" He grabbed her wrist just before she stepped forward to cross the street.

"Let go," she growled as she attempted to pull her hand away. "Let go of me or I'll—I'll..."

"You'll what, Clarice?" he challenged. "You don't have your small-arm or your handcuffs to apprehend me. We both know that you are not one to call for backup, Special-Agent Starling." His tone was metallic.

"Bet I won't?"

"I bet." He grasped her wrist still—not hard, but firm.

"As you wish, Doctor." She reached into her purse with her free hand and pulled out her cell phone.

"What are you doing, Clarice?"

"Hello, Mr. Crawford? Yes, it's Starling. I'm fine, sir. You wouldn't believe who I'm standing here with..."

"Clarice," the doctor protested.

"You wouldn't guess in a thousand years, sir. It's Doc—"

Lecter snatched her phone and closed it quickly.

"Give it back, you bastard!" She reached for her phone, which he quickly stowed in his pocket.

"Later."

"At least let go of me, you son of a—"

"Yes, only if you cease the name-calling, Clarice. I understand you are upset with me, but you needn't run from your troubles or involve Jackie-boy." His tone was low and serious. He still grasped her wrist.

"Fine." She nodded and he released her. She rubbed at her wrist. "So, where do we go from here, _doctor_?"

"As much as I'm certain you would enjoy standing and arguing the street, we needn't the attention—I'm also sure you don't wish to return and finish our meal at the restaurant. Are you still quite hungry, Clarice?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Would you care to join me in my hotel room? I could fix us something there. It won't be inappropriate of course."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said angrily. She turned from him and proceeded to walk down the busy sidewalk.

"Of course, Clarice. I should have known you would be angry with me." He walked after her still speaking. "It was not my intention. I didn't wish to upset you. I was merely trying to help you understand—"

"I don't need this. I don't need to understand and I don't need you!" She continued down the street.

"Where are you going, Clarice?"

"Away from you."

"You realize that your hotel is in the opposite direction." His voice was amused.

"Away from you is in this direction," she countered, moving forward past tanned faces.

"Don't be imprudent, Clarice."

"Don't you follow me."

"Clarice." He grasped her hand as he followed at her heels.

"Let go." She tried to shrug his hand away.

"I know you are still quite upset, Clarice and it would be most wise to leave you to cool your anger toward me at this moment. And I will, but I will only do so on one condition."

"What?"

"Look at me, Clarice." He halted his steps, still holding her hand.

"Why?" she asked staring away from him.

"It is a simple request and yet you protest."

"I'm looking at you." She stared at his solemn expression, taking time to examine the blue lenses that hid his maroon eyes. "Let me go now."

"What do you see when you look at me, Clarice?"

"Doctor..."

"What do you see," he urged her.

"Why do you insist on doing this in front of everyone?"

"You shouldn't be ashamed, Clarice."

"Give me back my phone."

"Later. Answer my question, please." He began to walk again whilst holding her hand—pulling her gently along with him. "I'm waiting, Clarice."

"I see an insufferable man-eater dressed in a ridiculous wig."

"Come now, Clarice. That wasn't very polite."

"You asked a question. I gave you my answer. Will you let go and give me back my damned phone already?" She halted and refused to be pulled along any further.

"No." He stood in front of her."I will not let you jeopardize my freedom, Clarice. We have numerous fun...things to do. I'm sure ol' Jackie-boy would love to put a damper on that. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes."

"Very good. We can agree on something after all." He smiled at her.

"Whatever, doctor."

"This won't do." The doctor walked slowly down the street while pulling Clarice gently with him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You are still upset with me, Clarice."

"Why do you even care?" Releasing her hand, he walked over to the sidewalk railing and looked at the river flowing below. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Clarice?" He turned to face her. Her anger was gone. He studied her for a long moment. Her brown hair hung in a mess at her shoulders and her eyes were glossy with tears again.

"I hate being alone."

After a lengthy pause he spoke. "Why are you alone, Clarice?"

"I choose to be...to protect myself." She downcast her eyes. "I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of?"

"The hurt..." She let her words trail off, unable to meet his eyes.

"What about the hurt?" He paused as if in deep thought. "Would you like me to tell you, Clarice—why you are afraid? I could tell you, but I think you know. Do you not?"

"Yes, I know it, Doctor Lecter."

"Tell me."

"It's—it's..." She inhaled deeply, recovering from her inner strife. "It's the pain—this great empty void that comes after the hurt. It's so empty—eats away at you like rats."

"You think of it as weakness," he stated.

"Yes," she agreed.

"In truth, it makes us stronger. You and I are alike in that regard, Clarice. We understand hurt. We understand the pain—the betrayal, the lonely nights where the emptiness that festers and haunts from within. Whether it's loneliness or the screaming, you know it."

"Yes," she choked as tears streamed down her face. "It hurts—it's the worst."

"As with your lambs, Clarice. You could not save them and in that way, you believe you failed—you hurt them. But what were you to do? Nothing could have saved them, Clarice. Don't think back on how you could have done things differently. The outcome would have been the same regardless."

"How can you be sure?"

"You did not harm them, Clarice. Past and future does not exist. Now is important, but your mind will and can make the other two exist. You mind gives your lambs life in your memory. Your mind keeps that wound fresh and sharp. Your mind keeps you up at night with thoughts of your father. Your mind lets that sadness and hurt return."

"Doctor..."

"The mind is a representation of reality. Truths and what we think are two completely separate things, Clarice. Do you follow?"

"I think so."

"Your mind is your mind, Clarice. But your mind isn't you."

"What are you saying?"

"Your mind will do what is does. However, you lead it. You've got to get your mind under control, Clarice. You must except that you could do nothing for your lambs. You must embrace defeat in this aspect and in turn, it will make you stronger."

"I'm ready." She looked up at him.

"Very good." Lecter smiled and reached out for her hand. "Let me take care of you, Clarice."

"Doctor?"

"This is why you have come—why you have followed me thus far, Clarice. Let me take care of you now, hm?" His hand was still outstretched as he watched her inner war. "You needn't protect yourself from me, Clarice. We are friends you and I."

"Friends," she sighed.

"Let me take care of you, Clarice," he repeated.

"Only on one condition."

"And what might that be?"

"That I get to make you a country dinner!" Her eyes brightened.

"Agreed." Lecter smiled as Clarice took his hand in hers and began to slowly stroll down the street, past tan face after tan face."Although, I must warn you, Clarice, that I don't particularly care for fried foods—frog legs, squirrels, and things of that nature."

"I bet you I could change your mind," she replied.

"I dare you to try, Clarice. I dare you to try."

* * *

I would appreciate any reviews. I'd really like to know what y'all think!


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